Yesterday Ry and I spent the morning at the teeny creek in his neighborhood. He had fun searching for frogs and waterbugs, but when we got home he had to take a bath to wash off the chemicals and whatever other nasty city runoff was in it.
But today...
Today was in the nineties. And so we headed for the woods, to Cascade Falls. The pools were clear, the air cool there in the shade of the forest.
The air inexplicably smelled of berries. We saw a yawning snake and met and old man and his grandson. The man was 80 and said he'd been coming there since he was a boy. He told us how the waterfall came from a spring up in the hills, how he rides his bike everyday to stay fit, and how he's actually only had 20 birth days--"I was born on Leap Year," he laughed.
Ry splashed and ran and searched for gold--thin pieces of mica glinting up at us. I breathed and wondered how I can forget the rejuvenating feel of the forests.
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